


Bathwater

by saturni_stellis



Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell (TV), Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell - Susanna Clarke
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Norrell actually being caring for once, in his own Norrell-ish way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-28 22:07:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7658551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saturni_stellis/pseuds/saturni_stellis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>originally written for the kink!meme prompt: There's been a few fics with scenes of Childermass giving Norrell a bath, but I'd love a fic where it's the focus. It could be funny, sweet, or smutty. </p><p>+ bonus points if there's also a reversal scene with Norrell bathing Childermass for some reason (maybe when he's recovering from his bullet wound?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bathwater

For the first three days after regaining consciousness, the pain in Childermass’ shoulder was near unbearable. There was a heat in the wound that felt as though it was constantly tearing new skin open, revealing flesh to the air and causing an itch so powerful it broke him out in a cold sweat, hands clutching at the sheets below him. The doctors told him this was part of the healing process – that it was impossible to stitch skin that had been broken so deep. In other words, Childermass would have to live through it. 

Those three days felt like weeks, hours seeping in and out of sleep deprived unconsciousness as he listened to the bustle of men downstairs and the footmen bringing trays of food up to his room. When the surgeons came to tend to him, adding new dressings and pouring on alcohol to rid of any infection, he wailed into the pillow, any and all dignity leaving him as the tears stung the corners of his eyes and he swore into the side of his pillow.

“There there now Mr Childermass. No need to curse at God, after all it was not He that did this to you.”

No, it was not.

As Childermass lay alone in his bed, between dreams of ravens and snow covered moors, he thought of the person that had done this to him, and what could’ve possibly driven her to do it in the first place. He had exerted himself with worry over the safety of his master and didn’t think he could worry any more, but worry he did.

Norrell had scarcely visited him since the day he had come back to consciousness, and he wondered if it was partly out of guilt for speaking to him so harshly. But Childermass knew him better than that, and was quite sure Norrell had probably pre-occupied himself so heavily with worries of his own that he would most likely fail to even notice Childermass was absent.

After about a week, Childermass felt quite certain he could get up and walk. The doctor who came to visit him advised him heavily against it, but Childermass protested and Lucas helped him across the room to stand by the window.

“Are you quite all right on your feet, Mr Childermass?” he asked.

He felt a little queasy but apart from that it was good to be upright. He nodded and told Lucas he need not stay if he had other duties to attend to.

“Very well.” Lucas nodded. “I’ll bring you a cup of that cider you like later, Sir.”

Childermass flashed the boy a small sideward smirk as he left the room, letting the door close before he let out a sigh and leant against the window frame.

Pulling the curtain back with his good arm he peered down on to the street. It looked like a different place to the one he remembered. Dirtier, noisier and much much brighter. On the cobbles across the road he spotted Lascelles chatting with one of the Admirals from the Navy, whose name had escaped Childermass at that point. He wondered what the other man was saying, much too far away to watch his lips. He had been dubious for some time regarding Lascelles’ alliances and whether he truly had Norrell’s best interests at heart… finding out from Lucas yesterday that it had been his idea to send Lady Pole to an asylum made him question the gentleman’s ethics further.

He heard the door open from behind him, and without turning to look, he said “I hope you’ve decided to bring that cider up for me early.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Norrell’s voice shocked him, he turned quite sharply, releasing a wave of pain that passed all the way through his arm and down to his fingertips making him hiss loudly.

“Forgive me,” the little man said quietly, standing sheepishly by the door. “I did not mean to startle you.”

Childermass nodded his head. “No sir, you did not startle me. I thought you were…” he trailed off, watching Norrell twisting his hands in front of him as though he were trying to think of something to say.

“They told me you were up and about and so I… thought I’d pay you a visit.”

He tried to hold back a smile. Come to ask me back to work you mean, he thought. Slowly he began to walk over to the bed, sitting on the edge and looking over at his master who was now walking slowly to come and face him.

“I am still fairly weak, but all I need’s a good few meals and sleeps and I’ll be back on my feet proper, Sir.”

Norrell nodded. “Good. I am glad of it.”

There were another few awkward moments of silence before Norrell spoke again. “I have asked Lucas to draw you a bath.”

Childermass looked up to meet his master’s gaze, raising his eyebrows. “That is very kind, Sir.”

Norrell shrugged, letting out a small sound with it as though to say it was nothing. “Do you…need assistance?”

He wanted to say no but considering he was already breathing quite heavily from the few paces between the bed and window, he nodded. He expected Norrell to pull on the bell to call one of the footmen back in to the room, instead the small man leant forward and held out his arm.

Childermass could not help his eyes going a little wide. He hesitated before outstretching his own hand and placing it upon Norrell’s arm, using it as leverage to help him onto his feet. Once he was upright he was sure Norrell would move aside, but instead his master took his waist and began taking small steps towards the door.

“Are you quite able?”

“Yes,” was all Childermass could manage as Norrell walked them both over to the door, turning the knob and leading him down the corridor.

When they reached the small bathroom Childermass eyed the copper bath in the middle of the floor, full almost to the brim with steaming water. His skin tingled at the very thought of immersing himself into it.

After a few moments Childermass was suddenly aware Norrell had been talking to him. It was of course, about business. He wasn’t quite listening but he was almost certain he’d heard Drawlight’s name being mentioned, something about the King and the Palace. He was muttering on at it him, most likely just to vent and not really expecting any sort of answer, and so Childermass hummed in response as Norrell began to undress him, as though it were the most natural thing for any master to do.

When Childermass was fully stripped Norrell’s hands hovered at the bandages on his arm. “Can they stay on?” he questioned.

Childermass looked at them wondering the same thing. “I suppose, as long as they do not get wet.”

He was assisted into the bath, a little clumsily but successfully without slipping and he sighed loudly as he sunk into the warm water. Sitting quietly on the chair next to him, Norrell watched Childermass soak in the water for a few moments before speaking again.

“Strange has been very distracted as of late.” Childermass did not answer him but acknowledged the statement all the same. “He has been rather distant with me. As though my knowledge of magic is suddenly of no interest to him! I knew the war would have a bad affect on him did I not?”

Childermass wondered now, if that’s why Norrell was deciding to sit with him whilst he bathed in a servant’s bathroom. Was Norrell suddenly feeling lonely? Were all those years being confined in a large house alone with books a distant memory now he had such company as Lascelles and Drawlight constantly at his beck and call and the excitement of an apprentice? Childermass began to question if Norrell was the same man he vowed service to, some fifteen years prior.

He wasn’t quite sure how much longer he’d want to sit in the water, listening to Norrell moaning about the lack of interest from his young student now he’d found more exciting men to spend time with in London.

Falling silent Norrell watched Childermass lean back, eyeing his chest, running his gaze up and down Childermass’ arms.

“Would you like me to wash you?”

Childermass almost coughed in surprise. He leant his head up to look his master in the eye. “If you wish.”

Norrell suddenly pursed his lips, his cheeks turning pink at the intense glare he was receiving from his man of business. “I could do it with magic…” It was almost a question.

The man in the water could not help the smile that crossed his lips. “Isn’t that cheating?”

Clearing his throat Norrell fidgeted in his seat. “You think I do not want to touch you?”

“I have a lot of flesh on show.”

“It is not the first time I have seen you bare, Childermass.”

Touché.

Norrell, with a sudden determination picked up the small wash cloth that was hanging over the side of the bath and dipped it into the water. He was not wearing his coat but was still in his shirt sleeves, and they dampened as he rinsed the cloth and wrung it out. Leaning forward he tentatively ran it across Childermass’ shoulder, bringing it down his arm and back up to his neck, circling it in small motions across the top of his chest.

Unable to remove his eyes from his master’s face, Childermass watched him intently, his breathing ragged as his lips hung ever so slightly open.

Had Norrell ever washed a body other than his own? The amateurish way in which he rubbed Childermass’ skin with the cloth now suggested otherwise, but the tenderness in which he did it made Childermass second guess him. Perhaps he did not know him so well after all.

Wetting the cloth again, Norrell’s hand ghosted ever so gently across Childermass’ stomach under the water, making the man twitch involuntarily. It was not so much the fact that it was Gilbert Norrell touching him, but merely the intimacy of being touched that made Childermass’ stomach twist with a desire he had not known for some time.

There was a strange atmosphere that surrounded them now, as if the steam coming up from the water was static in the air and any other noise that existed turned to incomprehensible sound – like crickets in the wind. Childermass suspected that perhaps Norrell was using magic after all, but it was so faint he began to wonder if maybe it was his own.

The two men had only gotten so close on two previous occasions, and on both there was the unmistakable feeling of something unusual in the air; something electric and inhuman. It was these occasions that had made Norrell realise Childermass had the ability for magic in the first place. After that he had taught him Belasis’ Scopes late one night in the library at Hurtfew.

The memory of it now, as Norrell’s thumb (purposely or not, he couldn’t be sure) ran over his nipple, made Childermass feel the warmth of that library’s fire. It was so vivid he could almost smell the burning wood. He had always longed to come to London, but for the first time since they arrived, Childermass suddenly felt homesick. He wondered if it was York he was missing or the long nights spent in silence with his master.

He swallowed when he realised the washcloth was no longer in Norrell’s hand, and instead his master’s palm was gently massaging his skin, damp with the water and warm from his own body heat. He leant forward almost on instinct as their noses touched and Childermass looked intently into the light blue eyes in front of him.

Averting his gaze, Norrell looked down and caught Childermass’ lips in his own. It only lasted a couple of seconds but it was such bliss that Childermass forgot about the nagging pain in his shoulder and he could’ve sworn his whole arm went numb.

When Norrell pulled away he stroked Childermass’ cheek just once with the pad of his thumb before sitting back on his chair.

“Thank you, sir,” Childermass whispered. The static steam in the air began to move again, swirling into wisps between them as it felt like the world had started moving whereas before it was still. 

Norrell smiled at him, a genuine smile he saw so rarely, and it filled Childermass with more warmth than the hot water could’ve ever given him. 

“I shall fetch Lucas to help you back to bed,” Norrell said, getting up.

He never thanked Childermass for saving his life, but he didn’t have to.


End file.
